An Older Woman's Chess Journey - Starting Chess at Age 63 An Older Woman's Chess Journey

A Plateau, a Rut, or a Springboard?

Published by Dawn on February 4, 2026

For quite some time now, I have been in a disheartening rating plateau–”rut” feels like a better description of the condition–but I have also been feeling that my chess is approaching a turning point of some kind. I am hopeful that this feeling isn’t that wishful thinking we all fall into sometimes, as in, “Well, I’ve been studying chess all this time without gaining many rating points, so maybe I am about to gain a ton of points all at once.” No, this feels more like I am trying and trying to wrap my brain around something that is just beyond my reach, and if I would only stick with it, I will have a kind of breakthrough in terms of my ability to see positions more clearly and understand the game better. Which should open the door to improvement of all kinds. But, as they say when talking about waiting for a new door to open, it’s hell in the hallway.

I’m talking about calculation. Of course you have to calculate somehow even when you are first learning chess, as in, if she takes my knight, I will take her bishop. But one day I was told that I can’t stop calculating with my own candidate move(s). I need to go further: what will my opponent do if I do that. And possibly even further, depending on the position. The idea that I consciously needed to calculate at least three ply practically paralyzed me. I don’t know exactly why. Part of it was the (surely irrational) fear that implementing this process even once during a game would take all of my allotted time. What if there were many possible responses to my move? How could I ever go through them all in my head? The old fear I expressed in an earlier post, that my brain was simply lazy or not up to this task, came back. Sometimes I do get a kind of brain freeze while trying to calculate, or I think for so long that I forget that the starting point was my queen’s being threatened, leading to the always-dreaded blunder of that mighty piece.

I have been assured by more than one chess teacher that with time and practice I will develop this calculating “muscle,” and so it will get easier. Really? What if I am that one person whose calculating muscle is immune to improvement? That question can be filed under what 12-step groups call “terminal uniqueness,” a mindset that needs to be recovered from for optimal personal growth. One big step in that process for me was aided by Dalton Perrine’s January 30 post in his “Chess Chatter” Substack. As examples of “Fixed Mindset Beliefs,” he lists: “‘I’m just not talented enough,’ ‘I’m too old to improve,’ and–wait for it–’I’ll never be good at calculation’”!!! Either he has a direct line into my brain, or–as must be the case–my struggles with chess are not unique to me at all. What a revelation!

Why I had to pick up chess when I was over sixty (thanks, Netflix and pandemic) and why I persist when I am getting older every day and not seeing much concrete improvement is thanks to a boundless love for the game and the allure of its depths of difficulty. These struggles with calculation have tested my dedication, but knowing that I am not alone helps. Even as I was writing this, a post from Johannes Eiriksson’s “Family Chess Journey” Substack arrived in my inbox with the title “Progress Comes in Leaps: Why daily effort in chess often stays invisible–until it suddenly clicks.” He’s writing about the experience of teaching his young daughters, but some of his observations are widely applicable, possibly even to me, no longer terminally unique.

[An Older Woman’s Chess Journey is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.]

How I Spent My (Chessy) Summer Vacation

How I Spent My (Chessy) Summer Vacation

Published by Dawn on October 7, 2025

It has been quite a while since I posted, but my chess life has gone on as usual (aka I play, I analyze, I take lessons, I feel I am a better player, I don’t achieve the rating of a better player). I did realize a longtime chess dream in August: I traveled to the World Chess Hall of Fame and Galleries in St. Louis! I had wanted to go since the first time I watched a chess tournament broadcast from there several years ago, when I first got into chess, and I was able to convince a friend who has just dipped her toes into the chess waters to accompany me. If I had to choose a highlight, it was playing chess outside right in front of the museum, by the world’s largest chess piece. A Starbucks is conveniently located right there, so we were able to nurse a cold beverage while playing outside in August in St. Louis.

There are two buildings, one housing the galleries and shop, and the other housing the St. Louis Chess Club. We enjoyed a wonderful curator tour of the exhibit that was showing at the time, on chess variants. After that we made the first of two expeditions to the shop, where I bought a couple of nice portable chess set cases and also notebooks and pens for the members of my women’s chess group, which delighted them.

Next, it was across the street to The Club. There was a tournament going on, so I had hoped to be able to watch in a classroom there with commentary by their grandmaster in residence, as is always advertised during the breaks when you watch their tournaments on YouTube. Of course I had also hoped to catch a glimpse of one of the greats during the breaks. Alas, the tournament venue was being renovated, so the action was in some other part of the city. I was tempted to head over there, but I was told that it wouldn’t be set up for spectators. But that’s okay; the renovations are now done, and I want to go back sometime anyway.

Also this summer I took a look at two new courses that ChessGoals has developed. I purchased one, and they provided me with the other as a review copy. Each costs only $9. They aren’t chess courses in the traditional sense, as in helping you to master opening theory, endgame technique, or strategy. Rather, they are about how best to study chess. One is How to Study Chess Effectively with Limited Time (“Study chess smarter with just 20 minutes a day”), and the other is Chess Habits That Stick (“Build consistency and motivation that lasts”). I applaud ChessGoals for producing this kind of content, which I think many of us need, whether we realize it or not. Each course has one hour of video lessons as well as PDFs and quizzes. The quizzes help reinforce your learning, and the PDFs are super helpful because they contain the structured forms ChessGoals has already devised for you to record all the data necessary to help you study effectively and create habits that stick. I have created various tracking spreadsheets myself, but never stick to them, but I know that studies have shown that if we pay for something we tend to be more invested in using it, so you are getting accountability for your $9.

Many of us spend the majority of our chess time studying alone and playing strangers online, with few or no opportunities to talk to someone about chess, including how we should be approaching it for the best results. Watching these videos with NM Matt Jensen’s calm, clear instructions felt like finally finding the right person with whom to have this conversation–for just a little more than the price of a latte.

Does Chess Have To Be Brutal on the Emotions?

Does Chess Have To Be Brutal on the Emotions?

Published by Dawn on June 11, 2025

I think we all need to get better at losing chess games, starting at the top and going all the way down to lowly me. It won’t be news to most people reading this that Magnus Carlsen pounded the table hard enough for pieces to topple over when he lost to World Champion Gukesh during the Norway Chess tournament. What interested me were the reactions of two of the commentators, IM and WGM Tania Sachdev and IM and WGM Jovanka Houska. I’m paraphrasing rather than going back to the video for exact quotes, but Sachdev said something about chess being a brutally emotional game, which she implied made his reaction understandable. Houska, on the other hand, said that such behavior was unacceptable, full stop. What do you think?

I have a lot of thoughts about this. First, it’s a shame that our pastime rarely gets in the news unless there is cheating or violence, which are very rare, statistically speaking. Brawls at Major League Baseball games tend to grab headlines, but a player throwing his helmet or batting gloves does not.

Chess does feel to me like a game that is brutal on the emotions. Not letting it be so is a chess goal of mine that is as important to me as raising my rating. The reasons that losing at chess packs such a punch are cited frequently. It is an individual sport in which both players have almost total equality, the sole exception being that the person playing with the white pieces derives a minimal advantage. Moreover, a loss cannot be attributed to or shared with a teammate, except in the case of rare team chess tournaments. Improving in chess is difficult and time-consuming, and since most of us have a winning percentage that is just a little higher than 50 percent, only rarely does it feel that all those hours of study and practice have paid off.

And then there is the rating issue. After every game you play, unless it is casual over-the-board or you find someone to play an unrated game online, your rating either goes up or down. So it feels like you are constantly being graded, and the hope of gaining back lost rating points can easily lead to playing binges and tilt. Yes, a baseball player’s batting average is similarly affected by every at-bat, but the player can’t play extra games to get extra at-bats on demand, with the hope of adding points back to his average. Hitting a baseball is really hard, too: if a player gets one hit in three times at bat, his batting average will be almost as good as it gets. In the course of his career, Ted Williams got a hit “only” 34.4 percent of the time. We chess players are lucky that we may win around 50 percent of the time.

One sad indicator of chess’s brutality on the emotions is that one regularly sees on social media or hears from fellow players that someone is quitting the sport altogether because of this. I started playing chess several years ago, and after some flailing around, I found a coach who emphasizes mastering the emotional side of the game right along with all of the on-the-board skills. Just as I feel my chess has improved despite my plateau, I am certain that my emotional approach to the game is also better than it was at first. I see fewer ghosts, and I try not to make assumptions about a given game’s outcome at any point. The rare times that I feel confident can be just as detrimental to my play as feeling utterly lost due to a minor blunder.

Some losses can still feel brutal, but these are much rarer for me than they were at the outset. I’m hopeful that my emotional game will continue to improve, and I have learned that one important way to assure this is to make a mental note during the game of how I felt when I made a move, especially a decisive one. I’m also beginning to read books that discuss this aspect of the game, such as the Seven Deadly Sins of Chess, which I plan to write about here in the future.

Yes, chess can be brutal on the emotions, but let’s not use this fact to excuse unacceptable behavior or to quit chess entirely. Looking inside can only help our game–and even our attitude toward life’s other inevitable setbacks.

Top photo by Alexas_Fotos on Unsplash

The Only Woman in the Room

The Only Woman in the Room

Published by Dawn on March 6, 2025

An adults-only chess tournament was held in Columbus, Ohio, last month. Such events are few and far between, so my friend John and I decided to go. It was certainly a lot closer to where we live, in Michigan, than is the Charlotte Chess Center, where we attended a tournament last November.

Studying the list of twenty entrants beforehand, I saw that I was once again at the bottom, and the next strongest player, was rated considerably above me. Not only that, during casual between-rounds conversation, someone from his chess club pronounced him underrated. I had hoped that I might gain my first tournament win this time around, but I knew it would be a long shot, and sure enough I am still without a tournament win. But the three-game day was a very nice experience, and I was able to enjoy it more than I had my previous two tournaments. One reason, I think, is that I now felt very comfortable writing down my moves and hitting the clock. Moreover, the event was held in a public library meeting room, with a Sweetwaters coffee shop just a few yards away, so there was no worry about going hungry or having insufficient caffeine. Also, perhaps because of the small number of participants, people were very friendly, and I was able to have nice conversations with several of them between rounds. One was David Marks, who gave John and me helpful information about how we might start a club and host a tournament. Coincidentally, David was interviewed by Kevin Scull on the Chess Journeys podcast shortly after the tournament.

Based on the list of entrants and the tournament’s small size, I had a feeling that I would be the only woman present. At my first tournament, which had included many children, I felt very self-conscious about my gender, my age, and my chess ability. Would the kids who played me think I looked like their crazy grandmother? At my second, adults-only tournament, I wasn’t distracted by such thoughts. I just wanted to count how many women there were. I wasn’t able to get a precise number, but it appeared to be between 10 and 15 percent.

In Columbus, I had a new feeling–that I was proud to be the only woman playing chess there, which felt almost as good as a win. The organizer, Jeff Shen, told me that he is working to bring more girls and women into the game. According to Jennifer Shahade’s essential book Chess Queens, between 2010 and 2020, female participation in US chess was between 11 and 14 percent, an increase over the 8 percent logged in 2000. In the best case scenario, there would have been one additional woman at the Columbus tournament. I do wish I could have scored at least one win, to demonstrate that women can not only play chess, but play well. Fortunately, my opponents and my teacher, reviewing the games, told me that I had played competitively. I am glad I was there and that I can now sit down at the board with a tournament opponent and attend to the business at hand without as much mental baggage about my gender as I had at first. Presumably my chess will improve with those extra brain cells at work.

[An Older Woman’s Chess Journey is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.]

Watching a Major Chess Tournament, Live

Watching a Major Chess Tournament, Live

Published by Dawn on January 24, 2025

I splurged on a spectator ticket for the World Rapid and Blitz Tournament in New York!

I chose to attend on the last day, December 31, thinking that the final games would be the most exciting. But as you have probably heard, Magnus Carlsen did away with the excitement factor when it suited him, deciding–after three draws in overtime–that a “co-championship” with his opponent, Ian Nepomniachtchi, was the way to go. My ticket entitled me to attend the closing ceremony, but I skipped it: having watched five hours of exciting chess that was suddenly truncated for no immediately apparent reason, I was in no mood to celebrate the co-champions in the Open section. As for the Women’s section, I wouldn’t have minded seeing Ju Wenjun feted for a well-played match that went to its natural conclusion. She and her opponent in the final, Lei Tingjie, played to five straight draws, until Ju Wenjun finally won the second overtime game.

Despite the unsatisfactory conclusion to the Open section, I enjoyed the day overall, although the spectator experience was unlike what I had seen in videos of some other tournaments (think the Speed Chess Championship in Paris, for example), in which the audience sits in a plush-looking auditorium with the players on a stage in a soundproofed area.

I said above that I had splurged, but my “hospitality” ticket was in the next category down from VIP. I spent most of my time on the second floor, one level above the action. I had discovered that when I was on the playing level, behind the velvet rope, it was exciting, but I couldn’t quite make out what was happening on the chessboards. The second floor had a balcony that overlooked the play. I watched the first games from there, and words cannot convey how exciting it was to see nearly all of today’s super grandmasters and other top players in one place. The last day was a good choice in that the women had played in a building across the street until then, but for the finals they were playing alongside the men, with the boards set up alternating by gender. I still couldn’t see what was happening on the boards from the balcony, though, so I went in search of an alternative.

Earlier I had noticed a space labeled Commentary Room. The door was ajar, and the security person guarding it said I could go in. There were GM Maurice Ashley and GM Evgenij Miroshnichenko commentating! I sat in the front row of chairs for almost five hours, with a perfect sight line to the computer screen that was showing the action. At no time were there more than five other spectators in the room. My seat was directly across from GM Ashley, sitting only about six feet away, and our eyes met more than once. I was planning what I would say to him and how I would ask for his autograph during a break, but they never took one. For the most part, there wasn’t enough time for the commentators to do so between games, but even when there was a decent interval, they stayed put and continued to talk. They even interviewed a special guest during one of the breaks, Neil deGrasse Tyson, which was an utterly unanticipated thrill, especially from my front-row seat. GM Vishy Anand was sitting several rows behind me for part of the time, and on my way out for a break our eyes met as well. Were people wondering who this grey-haired woman was and what she was doing there?

GM Ashley did most of the commentating, and although I had already become a great admirer of his when I saw how he handled the task of emceeing the World Chess Championship, I have even more respect and appreciation for his work after my afternoon of intense exposure to it. In particular, he always chose to focus on the most interesting games, regardless of who was playing, rather than just default to the marquee matchups. Also, I loved his reaction to Magnus’ decision not to finish the tournament. We all saw Magnus start talking to Nepo after their third draw in overtime. The first assumption was that they were discussing the game, but then that didn’t seem to be the case. Everyone was puzzled, and then GM Ashley said that he would contact someone on the playing floor to find out what the story was. After he had listened intently on his earbud for a time, his normally impassive face clouded over, and then he relayed the news of the co-championship to us, his expression morphing into that of someone who had just eaten a lemon. That is the moment of the event that has stayed with me the most.

My Second OTB Tournament

My Second OTB Tournament

Published by Dawn on November 13, 2024

In early November, I went to an ALTO (At Least Twenty-One) tournament at the Charlotte Chess Center! The experience lived up to the positive things I had heard about the event (The tournament winner, Nate Solon, has a great post about it.) It was wonderful to be in a silent room in which more than one hundred adults were concentrating over chess boards that had been set up for them in advance, with the clocks all programmed as well. All three of my opponents (I took two byes) were lovely people who were willing to discuss the game afterward. I lost all three, alas. I had really hoped that I would win just one game: the friend with whom I traveled did, and it was his first tournament. Still, I feel I handled the inevitably difficult emotions well and stayed focused on the positives.

Until the Saturday night social hour. An experience I had there was much more trying than losing all my games. A participant approached me, shook my hand vigorously, and while laughing thanked me for having the lowest rating of all of the participants, so that he didn’t have to be in that position.

Chess improvers: Be kind to one another. Because, as they say, everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. We all navigate the adult-chess-improver world trying or pretending not to care about our ratings, which we are able to do to a lesser or greater extent depending on our psychological makeup and what is going on in our lives. But making fun of someone you don’t even know with a lower rating than you is not ok. Those of us who weren’t born in a barn know this, but my experience shows that it needs to be said. Now I feel even more self-conscious about my rating, which was 101 going into the tournament (my online ratings indicate that this number should be higher). It’s hard not to feel that I have to win a game at the next one. I’m also worried because I’m having trouble letting go of this jaw-dropping incident, and I know that that just hurts me, not the perpetrator. I’m going to try to make writing about it here the last time I talk about it or think about it.

Chess improvers: Be kind to one another. Because, as they say, everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. As it happened, I was widowed about ten days before the tournament. It was not a sudden passing, and I decided to make the long-planned trip to Charlotte with a supportive friend, hoping that it would provide some diversion from my intense sadness. As it did, for the most part. Chess is so absorbing that, even while anticipating the loss of my husband, I had hoped that it would eventually be a safe harbor amid the tumultuous waves of grief. I even joked that when I remarried, it would be to chess. At this early stage I can say that sometimes it has been that safe harbor, but my emotions have been interfering with my play and study (with everything, actually) more than I would like. I’m persisting, though, because I know that this rewarding pastime and its largely supportive community will help see me through.

An Older Woman’s Chess Journey is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.

I Met a Chess Master!

James Canty III speaking to elementary school students

I Met a Chess Master!

Published by Dawn on October 17, 2024

I met my first chess master, and he gave me some great advice!

A friend invited me to help out at an elementary school event that was featuring a chess master talking about his new chess book for kids. I had heard of James Canty III, and jumped at the chance to attend even before I knew what my role would be. As it happened, I was to sit at a table and sell the books, a fitting assignment for a chess-loving retired librarian.

Thanks to technical difficulties with the bookstore’s credit card swiping gadget, there was a good bit of downtime, and so I had the opportunity to ask James all kinds of questions. I hadn’t really prepared any, but I was kindly introduced to him as the person who runs the Ann Arbor Women and Girls Chess group, so I started–somewhat fretfully–by telling him that I was discouraged because the group had not yet reached critical mass. James asked me how I was promoting the group, and he had many concrete suggestions about how to expand those efforts, including branching out to Instagram (here’s his) and adding members to my Facebook group by combing other local chess groups’ Facebook pages for potential attendees. He even friended me on Facebook, right then and there–a chess master! He seemed to have firsthand experience of how hard this can be, saying that it would come down to my having to do something similar to cold-calling people like a telemarketer. Not a pleasant picture, but I appreciated all of these ideas and the realism that accompanied them. I understand now that when I decided to start a women’s chess group, I thought mostly about the women playing chess, not the amount of promotion I would have to do to unearth them.

[Scroll down to the end of the post for a link to ChessGoals and a coupon code for 30% off their courses.]

Of course, I also wanted to consult James about my chess, such as it is. He asked what my rating was, and I had to tell him the bizarre and embarrassing number that is visible to all on the Internet: 101! (We were talking about tournament chess, so I gave him my USCF rating, only later realizing that telling him my lichess and chess.com ratings would have shown me in a slightly better light.) James did not bat an eye or look down on me–he just breezily said that all I need is one win and then I’ll be on my way! He added that whoever loses to me will be very, very angry (because no one will expect a person with a 101 rating to be able to play).

James went on to give me advice about how to think during a game and avoid blunders. He also said that if I kept playing, improvement would definitely come. It wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it that made a strong, lasting impression on me. His tone was completely matter-of-fact and pervaded with confidence. Like a newly sharpened knife, his manner cut through all of my silly agonizing about whether I could keep improving at my age and gave me a new, more positive attitude toward my chess journey. We didn’t talk specifically about the agony of being defeated, but it was clear to me that the mindset he suggested would go a long way toward easing those feelings. I was going to get better–I just needed to keep playing and think carefully about each move.

James’ book, Become a Chess Champion: Learn the Basics from a Pro, is beautifully illustrated (by Brian Lambert) and written in a clear and concise style. I particularly like the two-page spread “Questions to Remember,” which contains a fuller version of the instructions James gave me for how to think during a game. So, yes, I sold myself a copy of the book, and his inscription included the words, “Keep practicing and you will improve!” (he underlined the last three words). From my vantage point at the book table, I was moved to see that he wrote personalized inscriptions for everyone.

What an inspiring evening! I can only hope that I didn’t hurt James’ feelings toward the end of the event. I heard people asking him which chess luminaries he knew, and he mentioned that Hikaru Nakamura was someone he knew and texted with. Omg! “Does that mean I’m only one degree of separation from Hikaru?” I gushed. James confirmed with his characteristic graciousness and a chuckle, so clearly he was fine with it. He does a lot of chess commentating online, so please check him out and you will see what I mean.Thanks for a lovely experience, James!

Three Losses, Many Wins

Three Losses, Many Wins

Published by Dawn on July 24, 2024

I’m no Tarot expert, but I do pull a card every morning, and I enjoy reading about its meaning and what it might signify about the day ahead. On the first day of my first over-the-board chess tournament, I drew The Fool, which immediately brought a smile to my face. “You’ve got that right. What am I even doing here, where I will probably be at or near the bottom of the lowest-rated section? I hate all those people who encouraged me to do this!”

As the graphic shows, The Fool card depicts an utterly carefree young man eagerly setting off on a journey, not noticing that he is about to walk off a cliff. But the card is not a warning; instead it celebrates opportunities and beginnings, urging you to take a leap of faith, whether you think you’re ready or not.

Ok, universe. Here I come.

[Scroll down to the end of the post for a link to ChessGoals and a coupon code for 30% off their courses.]

The first game was scheduled for 11 am in a time zone one hour earlier than mine. For this extreme lark, that meant a long wait from my wake-up time. It was agonizing. But not as agonizing as the first 10 minutes of the “game,” before my 12-year-old opponent showed up. He immediately went to the official and asked if he could leave the room to power off an electronic device (required). He did, but as soon as he returned that same device made some noises. I assumed—and, part of me, I admit, hoped—that he would have to forfeit the game. The rules about this appear to be quite strict. But the arbiter told him to take 10 minutes off his time and that it was up to us to watch the clock and enforce it. Really? I doubted that time off the clock would hurt the game of this high-rated kid, who would go on to place 5th in the tournament and win $167.

My hand shook each time I raised it to move a piece and write down my move. Before long I was down a minor piece, then two pawns, and so on. But I did hang in there until the 37th move, when I was checkmated.

But I didn’t feel sad, as I had expected. I had gotten something I had wished for since first seeing The Queen’s Gambit—to sit in a (nearly) silent room filled with people playing this marvelous game and studiously recording their moves and those of their opponent. The room was smaller than I expected—my division had only 30 players. But what a diverse crowd it was! Chinese and Indian children were the most numerous, including one who needed to sit on a thick book to reach the board! There was one other adult woman who was perhaps half my age. I think the number of females of all ages was about 10 percent. There were a couple of adult men, including one who was impeccably dressed, in a suit, tie, and suspenders. He turned out to be a software developer from Madison, Wisconsin, and I was paired with him in the second round.

This was my favorite game of the three I played. I didn’t win—he ultimately got a two-pawn advantage—but for the most part it was a long, competitive game with no distractions, except for the two little girls playing next to us, who had a touch-move dispute involving a king.

My third and final game was against another boy. He was punctual but fiddled with a pen/flashlight for the entire time. One time he started blinking the light on and off, until I glared at him. The worst was when he dropped it onto the board and it hit the pieces. I looked over at the arbiter, but I was losing at that point and didn’t want it to seem like I was looking for an excuse for my poor performance.

This whole game was a blunderfest by both sides. I captured one of his rooks early, which was cheering. Fortunately, he didn’t notice that one of mine was hanging for several moves before I rescued it. In the end I opened the door to victory for him by blundering a knight, which he did notice, and it was downhill from there.

Even though I fully expected to lose all my games due to my low rating, my fear had been that the losses might put me on the verge of tears, or worse. Instead, though, I felt happy and almost giggly. It made me laugh to think how shocked the kids I played must have been to find that their opponent was their grandmother’s age. And I had played in an over-the board tournament for the first time! By the second game I no longer trembled when I moved a piece, and my notation was improving.I also began to feel the love for playing over-the-board that I’ve heard expressed by many but hadn’t experienced myself because I have played hundreds of games online and only a few over the board.

My other fears—of falling prey to a gambit and losing in fewer than 10 moves, of being the first game in the room to finish, of blundering my queen, of not realizing when I was in check—proved to be unfounded. Plus, I still loved chess and looked forward to analyzing the games and going over them with my coach. I had also had the privilege of being an advocate for the Women in Chess Foundation during the event. I introduced myself and the organization to the tournament personnel and let them know that I was available to any female player who expressed a need for support due to misconduct. Fortunately, no one did.

Regardless of the outcome, I know that my next tournament will be a much better experience, especially without all of the first-time baggage. I can’t wait!

Finding and Building Chess Community

Finding and Building Chess Community

Published by Dawn on July 9, 2024

In his aptly titled book Perpetual Chess Improvement, Ben Johnson designated “community” as the fourth pillar of chess improvement (the first three being playing serious games, analyzing your games, and practicing tactics). But it can be difficult to find or build that needed chess community. It is easy to find strangers with whom to play online, and there are plenty of coaches who will work with you virtually. But those one-on-one interactions don’t constitute community.

In retrospect, I think that I was seeking community, in a sense, when I started this blog. I had many things to say about my chess journey and many questions to ask, but no place to direct them.

I was thrilled when I learned that there was a chess club meeting weekly in the town right next to mine. My community! But did I rush out to join at the first opportunity? No, I chose instead to torment myself with anxieties about it. What if I’m the poorest player there? I had no shortage of other excuses: it’s in the evening, whereas I’m a lark who is starting to wind down when the club is ramping up. No one will want to play with me, and those who do will try Scholar’s Mate and other traps, checkmating me in under ten moves.

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At the same time that I was contemplating attending the chess club, people were encouraging me to go to a tournament. Actually I have wanted to sample the atmosphere of a large chess gathering like that ever since my first viewing of The Queen’s Gambit, but until today all I had done was look through the multitude of tournament announcements and come up with reasons why each tournament isn’t right for me. The time control is too short, the venue is inconvenient, it’s on a holiday weekend when roads will be crowded, etc, etc.

Eventually, two things galvanized me into getting out to the chess club. One was the realization that, if I was being this hesitant about going to a casual club meeting, I would never get myself to a tournament. The other was that I have had a dream of starting a chess club for girls and women in my town, and it was time to realize it. It would make sense to do some networking at the other club first. So I went! The networking was successful–having met the club leader that evening, it was easy to email him afterward and ask if I could publicize my women’s group on his club’s Facebook page. And even though I was anxious and overwhelmed that first night, I felt at home amid all the chess talk. Many members were full of tales of their recent trip to the Chicago Open and the cheater who had been caught there.

My second trip to the club was even better than the first, not least because the ice had been broken. I had heard that it would be a real joy (not to mention instructive) to play over the board and do an in-person post-mortem of the game with your opponent, and it was great to finally experience that. In the meantime, I had held the first meeting of my women and girls group, in a room reserved at the local public library. We had five at our first meeting, including a seven-year-old girl and her mother. It was marvelous to think that I might be helping to convey the joy of chess to a young girl.

These first small steps toward building community around my chess somehow gave me the push I needed to register for a tournament, finally. I will be attending the Chicago Class Open later this month. Expect a debrief in my next post 🙂

Is My Brain Lazy?

Is My Brain Lazy?

Published by Dawn on May 14, 2024

Is calculation largely a matter of willpower, or mental discipline? This question haunts my attempts to improve at chess. I ask this when I am calculating and visualizing a sequence of moves. “I take X, he takes Y, I take Z,” I think, for example, and then it feels like a white curtain or gray fog has overtaken my brain and made further thinking impossible. But is it really impossible? When this happens I fear that I am just being lazy, that if I exerted enough willpower I would be able to calculate the sequence further. Of course, I am not talking about grandmaster-level calculation here, but during the recent Candidates Tournament I was surprised and relieved to hear GM David Howell say that he was glad he wasn’t the one who had to do the calculation involved in a position that had been reached. To me this seemed to imply that he at least feels extended calculation to be extremely onerous, although we know that he would likely be up to the task.

The only other experience I’ve had with that white curtain/gray fog feeling is when listening to speech in a foreign language that is at or just above my proficiency level in it. I will have been conversing adequately for a certain period of time, when suddenly a switch appears to go off and my brain just will not parse any more. I may catch some of the prominent words in the sentence, but a mental fogginess prohibits me from putting the pieces together any longer. The feeling is similar to what goes on when I am playing chess, except that with foreign languages it seems to be a matter of exhaustion after a period of successful communication. Certainly in chess I become mentally tired if a game goes on longer than I am used to, but this lazy brain syndrome can happen long before I have played enough chess to have brain-fatigue.

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In addition to playing games and analyzing them, lately I have been doing the lichess Puzzle Streak as a warm up. My coach and I do it together sometimes, too, and he makes me say out loud the string of moves necessary to solve the puzzle. One thing that has helped me a lot when we do them together is that, when I get to where I can’t think anymore, he just calmly tells me it’s ok, start over from the beginning. He urges me, when doing a puzzle on my own, not to make a move until I have figured out the whole sequence. I know he’s right, but that means calculating and visualizing, and (I whine), it’s so much easier just to make that first check and see where the pieces end up. When I do the latter, I inevitably get some puzzles wrong. But I do mostly know better than to just make a check in an actual game without at least calculating my opponent’s possible responses.

I usually walk my dog before starting the chess puzzles portion of my morning routine. Sometimes during the walk I actually think to myself, “Today, I will be careful when doing my puzzles and not move until I have made a thorough calculation.” And then when I sit down and face that first puzzle, I either don’t try to calculate beyond one move or do so half-heartedly when I see it requires more than a couple of moves and give up before completing the sequence. This seems to indicate that I can’t will myself to make this effort just by some casual self-talk. But if I have not already exhausted my mental resources, I think I should be able to focus better.

I’m also wondering how my idea of willpower relates to our success or failure to apply a blunder check, and I’m interested in CM Azel Chua’s theory that we need a different approach than “Checks, captures, threats,” partly because that requires too much brain power over the course of a long game. (Hear him talk about this and other fascinating chess topics on Ben Johnson’s Perpetual Chess podcast and on Chess Goals’ No Pawn Intended.) But those are topics for another day.

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An Older Woman's Chess Journey Posts

[Scroll down to the end of the post for a link to ChessGoals and a coupon code for 30% off their courses.]

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[Scroll down to the end of the post for a link to ChessGoals and a coupon code for 30% off their courses.]